


Hot and Cold

by owlaholic68



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Dysfunctional Relationships, Everyone Is Gay, Fear of Flying, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: It was hard to say if Johnson and Moreno were enemies, friends, or something more. Even their own teammates could only speculate, though most of them had their money on the "something more".





	1. Chapter 1

“We’re going to go through some simple drills first,” Judah, the captain of this new squad, is saying, pacing back in forth in front of them. “I’ve been told that you were all selected for this team because of your individual skills and accomplishments, so we’re going to see how well you can work together. You will be starting at this end,” he points at where they are currently standing. “Make your way to the other end. This will not be a race, you must all finish together.”

Mark privately thinks that the obstacle course is not particularly difficult. It looks like something intermediate-level recruits should trained on, not experts. He side-eyes the rest of the group.

“Now, this obstacle course is not very hard, I know.” Judah echoes Mark’s thoughts. “Which is why each of you will be restrained or handicapped in some way.” He waves to the first person in line. “Lieutenant Whitman, please step forward.”

Lieutenant Whitman, or Daisy as she’s introduced herself earlier, is a shortish woman with russet brown hair pulled into a braid and pinned up. According to the personnel briefing they’d been given, she’s the pilot. Special training: hand-to-hand combat and vehicle repair. “Clipping my wings, Sir?” She asks with a sly smile.

“In a way.” Judah handcuffs her hands in front of her. “Next. Private Moreno.”

Moreno is a man not much taller than Daisy, wearing a small pair of glasses. He is a little stouter and more muscular than Daisy, which is good, because he’s apparently the tank of the team, in charge of all heavy weaponry and equipment. Special training: field survival. He steps forward and Judah attaches a pair of heavy weights to his ankles, which look like very uncomfortable leg warmers. Moreno shuffles his feet and winces.

“Private Johnson.” Johnson is one of the tallest in the bunch, and the gangliest. His eyes are sharp, a good quality for a sniper. Special training: maintenance and repair. If their vertibird broke down and Daisy was indisposed, or if someone’s weaponry malfunctioned, he was to take care of it. Judah ties a blindfold around Johnson’s eyes. For a moment, Johnson seems disoriented, but Moreno quickly grabs his hand and pulls him back into line.

Interesting. Moreno doesn’t let go of Johnson’s hand, instead keeping the other man close. Mark had assumed that nobody else in the group had previously known each other, but apparently that was not the case.

“Lieutenant Gannon.” Mark himself steps forward now. He is the all-around weapons specialist of the squad, with a specialty in short-range and silent weaponry. Special training; field medic. Apparently, they were having trouble finding a doctor or medic whose psych profile fit in with the team, so right now he took care of anything medical.

First, Judah hands Mark a pair of earplugs, which he inserts into his ears. All sound gets fuzzy and distant. Then Judah handcuffs his hands behind his back. It pulls at his shoulders but doesn’t hurt.

Well. This obstacle course just became much more difficult.

At first, it’s okay. Moreno firmly leads Johnson, and both of them help Daisy and Mark over obstacles that require climbing. Halfway through, Moreno is beginning to visibly tire, and all of them are getting frustrated by their slow pace. It’s probably a good thing Mark can’t hear them, because it looks like they’re starting to argue with each other.

Maybe Johnson and Moreno _don’t_ previously know each other. Mark was sure that they were already friends, but now they’re at each other’s throats. Moreno angrily rips his hand out of Johnson’s and starts to walk away.

“Hey!” Mark walks in the way, wishing he could grab the other man’s arm. His own voice sounds warped in his ears. “We finish together, or not at all.”

“-almost done,” Daisy says, apparently yelling so Mark can hear. She takes Johnson’s hand. “-go.”

Miraculously, they finish. It’s not a triumphant end by any means. At Judah’s nod, everyone’s restraints get removed.

This has changed the group. Mark and Daisy now stand in the middle, with Johnson and Moreno at the ends, opposite of how they were before. Both men refuse to look at each other, and both are fuming.

“Well.” Judah sighs and looks at all of them. “That could have gone better. We’ll try it again in a week. For now, we’ll take a break and go over some basic training.”

* * *

Nothing is better than being in the cockpit. Daisy adjusts her safety belt and puts her goggles over her eyes. She looks over at Judah in the co-pilot’s seat, who nods. Judah’s not helping her today, but his special training is in piloting, and in case of an emergency, he could fly them out of a situation or help Daisy.

“We’re up in three,” Daisy checks a dial, “two,” she puts the engine in that _right_ spot that thrums in her bones, “one.” And they’re off.

Underneath the roar of the engine, Daisy thinks she hears something from behind her. An alarmed yelp, maybe.

“We all good?” She yells back, not daring to take her eyes off her instruments during this crucial time. Hard winds are whipping off the coast and making it a little tricky to take off.

“We’re fine!” A vaguely unfamiliar voice answers. Oh right, that would be their test doctor for today’s mission, Henry. For the last month, they’d been cycling through a seemingly endless list of medical personnel that the higher-ups hoped would be compatible with the squad. So far, all of them had been absolute garbage in some way. This guy seemed okay, though. Not arrogant and condescending like the others, not incompetent, and not weirdly creepy like that one Schreber dude. “Johnson was startled, but we’re not injured or anything! Everything’s okay!”

Daisy decides not to worry about it until they get to clear skies, reaching their target altitude. She puts the vertibird on autopilot, then turns in her seat. Because right now, everything does not _sound_ okay. “What’s going on?” She asks. Judah watches the controls.

In the middle seat is the doctor, Henry, who is starting to look a bit freaked out. “Alright, so maybe everything’s not okay,” he admits.

On his left, Johnson is bawling, chest heaving with hyperventilating gasps. He’s holding onto the edge of the seat and the safety bar in front of him so hard that his knuckles are white. On Johnson’s other side, Mark has his hand on Johnson’s shoulder trying to calm him down, but to no avail. He looks up Daisy, then over at Judah.

“Why didn’t we take precautions if he was afraid of flying?” He asks, almost accusing. “Sir,” he tacks on. This squad has only been together for two months, and it’s no time to get casual.

“Psych eval didn’t mention it,” Judah says, putting his hands up defensively. “Believe me, if I had known…” He frowns. “Doctor Henry, could you knock him out?”

Henry winces apologetically. “Not a good idea, Sir. Could be detrimental, and I couldn’t knock him out every time we took off.” Somehow, him saying ‘we’ sounds right, like Henry has become part of that ‘we’ in mere minutes.

Frowning, Moreno unclips his safety harness and stands. “Henry, switch with me.”

“No!” Johnson yelps, staring up at him with terror in his eyes. “Don’t- Moreno, don’t stand up-”

A gust of wind shakes the craft, and Daisy whips her head around to adjust before putting it back on autopilot and turning back around.

“Ssh, it’s gonna be okay.” Moreno sits in Henry’s vacated seat and straps himself in. He peels Johnson’s hands off the seat and safety bar and takes them in his own. “Ow, fuck. Loosen up or you’re going to break my fucking hand.”

This draws a watery laugh out of Johnson. “Sorry.”

“Now uh, take a deep breath. Close your eyes too, moron, so you don’t see the ground.”

Daisy turns back to her controls but keeps one ear in on the conversation.

“That was not a deep breath, idiot. Try again. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

It goes on like that, until Johnson gets quieter and calmer. An hour later, their target is in view. Daisy sends a message to Maria, their brand-new intel agent, that they had reached their target.

“We’re landing in two minutes,” Daisy warns. Uh oh, Johnson is going to panic when they land, isn’t he? She gives Judah a raised eyebrow. He deeply frowns.

“We’re going to land,” Moreno repeats. When Daisy glances back, she sees them still holding hands. “But don’t focus on that. Instead, remember when we-” His voice trails away into a whisper. The last thing Daisy sees before she turns back to her landing controls is their heads together, both of them smiling in a way she’s never seen before.

* * *

“It was very generous for them to give us a vanity,” Maria comments. She finishes draping her quilt over her bed and pokes her head out of the bunk to look up at Daisy, her new roommate. “I’m afraid that I’m not one for makeup, though.”

Daisy grins down at her from the top bunk. “Me neither. We’ll have to find some use for it. Two desks, two dressers, plus all the closet space? They must have been expecting two supermodels. I know for a fact that Henry and Mark don’t have two desks, and Moreno and Johnson have to share a dresser.”

Maria starts unpacking clothing. “But at least Judah as his own room.”

“The privileges of rank,” Daisy sighs. “He has a super tiny room, though. And there are no windows.”

“Speaking of windows,” Maria contemplates their windowsill. Outside, there is a light dusting of snow. “Should we get a plant? I think we can wrangle something from the biology department.”

“Something non-experimental, I hope?”

“Uhhh…”

Daisy laughs. “I thought so. Everything the higher-ups do is experimental. Hell, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” She adopts a sing-song voice. “Let’s see what happens if we cram a dysfunctional squad into a really small suite! And we’ll put the two least compatible team members together in one room! And only give them one bathroom and one washer and dryer! And we’ll make the heat broken so it’s cold as fuck in here!”

“It _is_ a weird experiment,” Maria admits. “Take me, for example. Or Henry. We’re not even field personnel, nor are we exclusive to the Devil’s Brigade. But we’re in here anyways.” She finally finishes hanging up her uniforms and starts with her civilian clothing, practical dresses in sugar-sweet pastels. “You mentioned Moreno and Johnson. What’s going on with them? According to their psych evals-”

Maria shuts herself up. Oops. That’s supposed to be confidential information.

But Daisy caught the slip. She leans off the edge of the bed. “According to their psych evals? What?”

“Nothing. Okay, fine.” It’s just so easy to talk to Daisy. What’s more, the woman doesn’t gossip about her teammates. Sure, she’ll share a story about other squads, often regaling them with funny tales of the women from Granite’s team, but she’s close-lipped with secrets. “According to their initial tests, they should be the _most_ compatible members of the team. They should,” she sighs, “they shouldn’t be how they are. Command is re-running the evals on everyone after a month of living together. They’re hoping this will bring them back together.”

Daisy climbs down from the bunk. She looks thoughtful. “I hope so too,” she says.

Maria is no expert on interpersonal relations, but she’s pretty sure that this new living arrangement is _not_ helping.

“And I told you, I’m sure that I didn’t put it in the laundry!” If someone could angrily eat cereal, Moreno has accomplished it.

“And _I’m_ telling _you,_ I didn’t see it! It would probably help if we could actually see the damn floor in our room!”

“I’m not the only one who makes a mess!”

“No,” Johnson stands up and pushes his chair back. “But you’re the one who doesn’t clean any of your stuff up! At least I keep my shit on _my_ side of the room! But you have go and spread your junk all over-”

“Bullshit! Last week you had your sweatshirt on _my_ bed, even when I fucking asked you not to put your stuff over there-”

And so on. Maria trades a wince with Mark, sitting across from her. She tries to ignore the hot blush that rises to her cheeks at the flirtatious wink he gives her in return.

 _“Henry!”_ Daisy’s voice rises above the rest.

Henry, half-asleep at the breakfast table, jumps in his seat. “What?” He grumpily demands. Henry is _not_ a morning person.

Daisy pokes her head in from the laundry room. “I told you not to put dark colors in with whites!” She reprimands. “You can’t just put all of the colors in together!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “That’s too much work! I have to do three separate loads of laundry, when I could just stick it all together! Nothing we own has colors that bleed, anyways.” He sighs and yawns.

“Still!” Daisy slams the laundry room door behind her. “What if I had put one of my nice blouses in there-”

“Everybody _shut up!”_ Judah roars, poking his head out of his room. They all fall silent. “It’s six o’clock in the _damn_ morning, how can any of you feel like arguing so early?”

“I think those two could argue at _any_ time,” Maria mutters to herself. Mark huffs a quiet laugh, then both of them quiet under Judah’s glare.

Judah points at Johnson and Moreno. “You two, apologize and sort out your shit.”

“Sorry,” Moreno snaps, heading into the small kitchen. “I’ll keep my stuff out of your way.”

“Apology accepted. And sorry about…the other stuff.”

“Good.” Judah points between Henry and Daisy. “And you two are off laundry schedules. Henry, you’re with Moreno for now, and Daisy, you go back with Maria.”

“Okay, Judah.” Daisy sheepishly ducks her head and starts getting ready for the day. It’s been half a year now, and they’ve all stopped keeping Judah at arm’s length.

Henry doesn’t respond, because he’s fast asleep with one hand propping up his chin.

* * *

If there’s anything that Henry hates the most, it’s dealing with people. He works mostly with animals for a reason, goddammit. But here he is, anyways, because he’s the doctor assigned to this unit.

“Stop it,” he snaps. “You have to keep the thermometer in your mouth for three minutes.” He checks his watch. “You’ve still got another minute.”

Since Moreno can’t vocally answer, the man glares instead. Real grateful and easy patient. He’s pushed back against everything that Henry’s tried to do, when he’s not throwing up and almost passing out from a high fever.

“Okay, that’s three minutes.” Henry squints at the thermometer. One hundred and two degrees. “Bed rest for a week. Drink plenty of fluids. I’ll fetch some lozenges and a nasal spray from the infirmary.”

Moreno nods.

“I brought you some tea.” Johnson comes into the room with a blanket thrown over his shoulder and a steaming cup in his hands. He sets the cup down and drapes the blanket over Moreno’s shoulders, tucking it firmly around the other man.

“Good. Keep those fluids going. Soup later for dinner. Solid foods will be too much of a strain on your stomach.” Henry straightens and nods at Johnson, then goes into the bathroom to wash the thermometer. He keeps one eye out into the living room.

“You need to listen to Henry,” Johnson quietly admonishes. “He’s just trying to help.”

Moreno groans in reply. He tucks his head into Johnson’s shoulder and coughs, then mutters something Henry can’t hear.

“Yeah, yeah.” Johnson kisses Moreno’s forehead. “I know you’re miserable. Drink the tea, and we’ll lie down for a bit.”

Sweet, but now _Johnson’s_ going to get the flu too. Henry sighs and resists the urge to pull his hair out. And speaking of sick…

The bathroom is very frequented today. Maria brushes past Henry and takes her turn leaning over the toilet. Henry frowns. Come to think of it, Maria got sick way before Moreno did, and it hasn’t resolved yet…

 _“You_ don’t have the flu,” he accuses, putting away the thermometer and crossing his arms. “Maria.”

She waves a hand at him, then sweeps back her bangs. “Good deduction there, genius. I’m just about four weeks in, according to my doctor.” She shakily stands and Henry rushes to grab her arm and help her up. “And stop that, Henry.” She looks up at him, pale and vulnerable. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I’m going to tell them in a month. This – this isn’t the first time.”

Henry mimes turning a key in his lips, then throwing the key away. This makes Maria laugh, which makes Henry hug her, a firm squeeze before letting go.

“I’d better go check on my reluctant patient,” he says, pointing back at the living room.

“Yeah.” She grins mischievously. “Johnson’s going to get the flu too, isn’t he? They’ve been inseparable ever since Moreno got sick.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Of course he is. He’s overdramatic, clingy, freaking out over the flu.” He looks back at them. “They’re not usually like this. Not so…lovey.”

“No, they’re not.” Maria sighs. “They fight so much, it’s hard to forget that sometimes they actually care about each other.”

Henry looks at the pair, _really_ looks in a way he rarely does. What Maria said is true: they care about each other. A lot. But there’s something else there that stops them from fully expressing that, something that makes them have nasty fights and drawn-out periods of ignoring each other.

“I guess they do,” he admits. “In their own way.”

* * *

Judah’s not sure why he’s waiting outside of this door. Maybe it’s because he’s a little worried that the Sergeant will be too rough on Johnson, or maybe it’s because he wants to corner his subordinate and give him a more personal dressing-down for disobeying orders and endangering his teammates.

It’s a surprise when Moreno comes down the hallway and leans against the wall next to Judah.

“What are you doing here?” Judah asks, maybe a bit more snappy than normal. It’s been a stressful day, a stressful mission.

“Could ask the same of you.” Moreno is not offended by his rude tone of voice. “He still in there?”

Judah nods. “How’re Daisy and Mark?”

Moreno shrugs. “They’re gonna be okay. Henry says Mark will be on his feet in two or three days, Daisy in a week.”

“Hm.” Judah nods, pushing down the pit of worry that has been festering for hours now. They wait in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Judah peeks at Moreno and thinks about what he knows about him.

Private Orion Moreno, heavy weapons specialist. Twenty-five years old. Single, with no indication of any romantic partners. He had been with the Enclave for three years, and had proven himself a zealous soldier, though occasionally too enthusiastic. Vicious temper when provoked, fierce protectiveness when his friends were threatened. Practical and steady in the field, always obeys orders without question. Lack of interpersonal diplomacy made him a poor candidate for officer positions, but he was ideal for support roles.

Moreno hates incompetent people. He is constantly frustrated by Johnson’s laziness and bad attitude, and is vocal about his displeasure. And what about Johnson?

Private Johnson. Twenty-six years old. Single, no significant others, no close family. None that were…supportive of him, anyways. Two and a half years in the Enclave, and one of the best sharpshooters. One of the worst people in the field, though. Constantly questioning orders and outright refusing them for personal moral reasons.

 _That_ was the main point of contention between Johnson and Moreno. At home they were okay, barring the occasional dispute about living quarters, but on the field they were at each other’s throats every moment. What’s interesting is that both their psych evals and the Enclave Intel report about them implied that they were incredibly compatible in every way. They should be best friends, or more. According to the supplemental report about their two-week vacation together, emphasis on the _more._ And yet…

The door next to Judah opens. He straightens. Enough daydreaming.

Johnson looks like a wreck barely keeping itself afloat. He closes the door behind him with a shaking hand, then turns to Judah and Moreno in surprise. “Sir-” he starts, lip trembling.

Moreno almost knocks him off his feet with the force of his hug. Johnson lets out a small “oof” and wraps his arms around Moreno.

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking do that again!” Moreno snaps, cradling the back of Johnson’s head as he buries his face in Moreno’s shoulder and starts to cry. “Don’t pull this bullshit again, idiot! Follow _damn_ orders no matter what, and you won’t get in trouble!” He pulls back from the hug and lowers his voice. “What happened? How bad is it?”

“On probation.” Johnson’s voice is quiet and wavering. “One more serious offense and I’m demoted.” He sniffles. “How’re Daisy and Mark-”

“Fine. They’re fine. Henry says they’re going to be fine.” Moreno hugs him again, and Judah feels like he should maybe leave them to it. “I was worried you were going to get demoted, or kicked out, or something. Don’t you _ever_ worry me like this again.”

“Okay. Sorry-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Moreno’s voice is rough but not unkind. “Apology accepted.”

Judah turns away and leaves, and they don’t notice. Judah shivers. Moreno was right to be worried. Getting kicked out of a secret organization involves a bullet to the head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor injury and period-typical homophobic language.

“Oh – Mark – what do I do with – ah-”

Mark immediately regrets his decision to hand his newborn baby, his _infant_ son, over to someone who has apparently never held a child before. Moreno tries to cradle Arcade’s head with his shoulder and his hand at the same time, while leaving the baby’s legs unsupported.

“You have to hold his head,” Mark unhelpfully adds, because hell if _he_ knows how to explain how to hold a baby! You just hold it and put it in your arm!

“Just take him back, Mark,” Moreno pleads, sliding down the slippery slope of panic. “Take him, I can’t hold him-”

“Here. Don’t panic.” Johnson comes in to save the day, like a baby-carrying angel. He swoops in and adjusts Moreno’s arms until Moreno doesn’t look like he’s about to _drop_ Arcade. “There. You got him?”

“Yeah,” Moreno whispers. He slowly smiles. “Hey, you’re real good at babies – at holding babies.”

Johnson shrugs. “You know, had some younger cousins.” He guides Moreno’s elbow so that he’s rocking back and forth. “He’s cute,” he says to Mark.

Mark hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the two of them. They look so in-sync and comfortable with each other like this. “Thanks.” He clears his throat. “He’s gotten all of Maria’s gorgeous genes, of course. Have you two ever thought about having children?”

Oops! _Wrong_ way to word that!

“I mean,” oh shit now he sounds stupid, “if you were married to someone, would you ever want, would you ever consider having kids-”

Johnson half-giggles and awkwardly looks at Moreno. “Oh, you know, just never found the right woman yet!” He winces and shrugs. “But maybe. I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it.”

Moreno shrugs too. “Maybe. Maybe an older kid, foster care or something. I’m not sure how good I’d do with little kids.”

“Time for dinner!” Henry calls into the room. He pokes his head in. “Maria says she can take Arcade now, Mark.”

“Thanks.” Mark scoops up his son from Moreno’s arms. “What about you, Henry? Would you ever want kids?”

Henry barks a laugh. “Who, me? Hell no. I’m not sure anyone would ever even give me that kind of responsibility.”

Mark laughs too. “That’s true. You can barely look after yourself.”

* * *

Henry hates this. He’s stuck in his room.

Mark, Maria, and Daisy are outside playing with Arcade. Judah is off at a meeting. This leaves him alone in their suite with Johnson and Moreno.

It is not uncommon for them to be fighting. But this is the worst fight, and Henry is stuck. Normally he could throw on his headphones and listen to the radio, but he’d left his headphones out in the living room. Where they were fighting. Maybe Judah has some headphones. But a brief search of his captain’s tidy desk reveals nothing. Henry has been rooming with Judah for a little over two years, ever since Maria and Mark got married. That had necessitated a room change for almost everyone, except for Johnson and Moreno who were still sharing- wait. Why couldn’t they fight in _their_ room?

Henry crosses his arms and silently fumes. There is nothing he hates more than these fights. They’re loud and nasty and make his skin crawl.

“-idiot!” Moreno is shouting. Quite frankly, Henry has no idea what they’re even fighting about. He suspects it’s not the same thing they _started_ fighting about. “I hate the way you – you’re doing it again, looking like a pathetic crybaby-”

“Shut up!” Johnson shrieks. “At least I’m not an asshole! At least I’m not running around like I know best, like everyone else should just shut up-”

“Bullshit! You lying little pillow queen, making up shit just to make you look like the victim-”

“Me, lying? Fuck off, you pretentious daffy-”

The sound of a slap echoes throughout the small suite. Henry, standing with his back to the door with his arms wrapped around himself, jumps and gasps. He holds his breath. Did – did Moreno just _hit_ Johnson?

“M-Moreno-” Johnson sounds like he’s in shock.

“Don’t.” Moreno sounds like he’s crying. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But don’t – just don’t say that. I don’t go around calling you a f – a fa-”

“Sorry. That was out of line.” Johnson still sounds furious, but more of a resigned anger. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to _slap_ me, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know.” Moreno sighs. “I – I know.”

After a moment of silence, Henry hears one door slam, then another. He finally releases the breath he’d been holding and shakily reaches for the doorknob. He _hates_ it when they fight.

* * *

Daisy should have been watching her back, but she got distracted. She’s frowning at her reflection in the mirror, trying to call back the memory of her father, and how he manages to so effortlessly do this. This is her fifth try, and it still looks crooked and five shades of terrible. She sighs.

The door opens. “Daisy?”

She whirls and instinctively covers herself, even though she’s fully clothed. “Moreno?” It’s more of a squeak than a casual, even tone of voice.

Moreno stares at her. “What are you doing in my room?” He takes in her current outfit. “What are you wearing – is that _my_ tux?”

His voice is shocked and accusing in all the wrong ways. Daisy nods and quickly hides her face, brushing away tears. “Sorry-”

“No, it’s fine-” He rushes to reassure her. “I was just surprised. Thought you leaned a little more to the feminine side, is all.” His face falls. “Oh, no, Daisy, don’t cry, you look really good in it. Like, uh, that one woman from that movie, from the – when she was singing in that suit-”

“Like Marlene Dietrich?” Daisy sniffles. She feels a little less bad about it now. “Thanks, Moreno. I can’t get the tie right, though.”

“Oh, I can help you with that, if you want.” Moreno swiftly unties the mess of work she had done, then deftly reties it. “There.”

Daisy stares at herself in the mirror and blushes. She looks away, then forces herself to look again. She’d let her hair down for this, and it falls across the slim shoulders of the suit jacket. Moreno is roughly the same size as her, and she’d always admired the crisp suit he had worn to the Gannon’s wedding. And since the whole squad was supposed to be gone for the day, she had thought that a bit of experimentation wouldn’t hurt. Daisy smooths her hands over the lapels and admires the way the suit makes her look fierce, unapproachable.

She sighs. But it’s also visible and outrageous to wear. For _her_ to wear. This isn’t her, not really.

“What’s wrong?” Moreno softly says. Daisy forgets that underneath his brash exterior, he can be like this too.

“It’s just that it doesn’t feel right,” she admits. “I was trying…something. Some women do it, they wear suits and big boots and short hair,” she touches her own long hair, “and I thought maybe I could be like that too, if I wanted. To fit in more. Make me feel like I really _am_ a lesbian.”

For a terrifying second, she fears she’s misread Moreno, then his face softens. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says.

“Cause I’m not really butch, but I’m not the cool kind of femme that magically finds girls.” Daisy sits in the desk chair. “But I know this isn’t me. Some women really like this, but for me, it’s silly. Like playing dressup. I don’t know how Steffie does it.” Steffie, or Stephanie, was one of the women of Granite’s team, one half of the power couple that was her and her girlfriend Kim.

Moreno perches on the desk and puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not easy to figure out…things.” He sighs. “Fuck, I’m still figuring it out. I’ve never really had the chance to explore. I’m glad you are getting the chance now.”

“Me too.” A thought comes to Daisy, and she flushes. “I’ve never slept with a woman, though. And that sucks, and it makes me, I don’t know, doubt myself. What about you? Have you ever been with a man, I mean?”

“Yeah.” His reply is almost too quiet to hear. Moreno’s not looking at her, instead picking at a splinter on the desk. “Once.”

“Oh.” Daisy doesn’t know if it’s her place to pry, and decides that it’s not.

Moreno clears his throat. “Unrelated, I’m still figuring out how not to be,” he sighs, “ashamed. Me and Johnson were in San Francisco, going out dancing, and a couple of guys approached me when he went to the bar, and they – they asked if me and ‘my boyfriend’ were new in town, and if we wanted to go a party the following night.” He rubs his face. “And I wanted to snap at them so bad, and tell them, for some reason, that Johnson _wasn’t_ with me, and I don’t know, I felt so shy about it in the moment.” He stops, like he’s revealed something he shouldn’t have. “But Johnson was coming back and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I just said that we were leaving the next day, and that sorry, we couldn’t go. And it just hurt, I guess, that I still felt so ashamed of that, of him, that I still hated that part of myself.” He shrugs. “So, like I said, I’m working on it.”

Daisy has started crying again from the emotional resonance, because Moreno’s story hits a little too close to home. She stands and hugs him, the smooth fabric of the stiff suit crinkling. He returns the hug, awkwardly patting her on the back before letting go.

“How about you borrow one of my shirts?” He suggests. “This suit is a little impractical and very ostentatious for every-day, but I have a few flannel shirts that are boxier. If you tuck it into a skirt, maybe it will look just a little butch-ier than your normal look.”

“Yeah, sure.” Daisy wipes her eyes. “Moreno. Thank you.”

He waves a hand, embarrassed at all the emotional talk. “Yeah, yeah. It’s no problem.”

* * *

“Okay.” Daisy’s voice shakes, and she looks pale in the eerie lighting of the vent where they are hiding. “Okay, status report. Everyone report in.”

Maria knows that she’s shaking too, both from stress and from her injured arm. The bleeding had stopped, but it still ached. A lucky fucker with a knife had gotten her as she and Daisy had made their escape. “I’m fine. I’m with Daisy.”

Moreno’s voice crackles in over their earpieces. “I’m scratched up, but fine. Stuck in a storage room.” He grunts. “Judah’s out cold. I’m going to have to carry him. He hit his head.”

“Acknowledged. Try your best.” Since Mark was back at Navarro watching over Arcade, Daisy was currently the highest-ranking officer on the team. She’s not used to being in charge, especially not in a disastrous situation like this. But with Judah unconscious, it’s up to her to get the team to the extraction point. “Johnson? Henry?”

“We’re heading for the point.” Johnson’s voice is steady. “I’m not injured, but,” he takes a deep breath and there’s the sound of something shifting. “But Henry’s not doing so hot.”

“Shock,” Henry mumbles between heavy breaths. “Bleeding slowed, but shrapnel is still in my leg, and-”

He abruptly stops talking. Johnson yelps and his microphone statics out as, presumably, his earpiece falls. The channel cuts out.

“Johnson!” Moreno yells, unheeding of the fact that they were supposed to be hiding. “Johnson, come in-”

“Shush!” Daisy hisses. She taps her earpiece. “Johnson? Henry?” Her eyes widen and meet Maria’s. “Okay. We have to assume they’re okay. We’re going to head for the evac point in a minute-”

“No,” Moreno snarls, a hint of desperation making his voice tight. “We need to go back and find them! He could – they could be in trouble! I’m going back for them.”

Daisy frowns. “No. They can handle themselves.”

“Daisy-” Moreno protests.

“That’s an order.” Daisy winces. Maria pats her shoulder and points towards further down the vent, where an exit can faintly be seen. “We’re heading out now. You should too. We’ll meet you in five.”

Maria follows Daisy out and back into the sprawling complex. Alarms are still sounding, evidence that people are still searching for them after they unwittingly made their presence known. Daisy is specialized in hand-to-hand combat, so Maria lets her lead. Maria’s weapon training is in long-range weapons, usually for scoping out situations and only occasionally to fire. Right now, she has a handgun, and is okay at using it.

This is not how their missions usually go. Usually, Judah’s firmly in charge. Daisy and Mark are one step behind him, Moreno is covering their rear, and Johnson is avoiding doing any work. Maria can count on one hand the number of times she’s been in the field with the team. Same with Henry, though to be fair, Henry usually has bad luck when he _does_ come out of his lab (see: cave), and rarely comes back from something uninjured.

But normally, everything’s fine. And right now, things are far from.

The meet-up point is deserted when Daisy and Maria sneak in. Or, they _think_ it’s empty.

“Daisy?” A quiet voice comes from behind a stack of boxes.

Daisy perks up. Maria’s heart soars. “Johnson? That you?”

“Affirmative.” Johnson pokes his head out, then turns back and drags an unconscious Henry into the light. “He’s been in and out. Blood loss or shock, I think.” Johnson is ashen and shaking. “He needs medical attention, and quick.”

Across the space, a door opens. Daisy tenses up and moves to block the group.

“It’s me,” Moreno mutters, Judah’s unconscious form slung over his shoulder. He straightens up. “Johnson.” From what Maria can intuit, he looks ready to rush forward and embrace the other man. But Moreno grits his teeth and turns away. “You had me worried,” he snaps. “Let’s get out of here.”

That’s enough for Johnson, though, who softly smiles. “I was worried about you too,” he whispers, half to himself.

* * *

Privately, Judah hates big social functions like this. _This_ being a fancy party with all the superior officers, a few key governmental officials, and the more advanced squads, the Devil’s Brigade included. There was a dinner, then several speeches, then now dancing. The dancing was supposed to be formal, waltzes and the like, but then _somebody_ (Judah side-eyes Granite’s hacker, Linda, known for pranks and practical jokes) had switched the music to upbeat dance tunes, and the night had taken a different turn.

Judah is standing with some other officers at a cocktail table. A few of them are more heavily drinking, but this corner is relatively sober.

Across the room on the dancefloor, Maria and Mark are taking turns dancing with their son, newly turned two years old. They’re picking him up and twirling him around, all of them laughing and having a good time. It makes Judah’s heart ache, though he’d never admit that he scene made him feel lonely.

Speaking of lonely, Daisy and Henry are sitting together at a table, the perfect picture of awkward wallflowers. But as Judah watches, Moreno approaches them and holds out a hand to Daisy, who grins and takes it, and the two of them take the dancefloor. Henry sighs and puts his chin in his hand, obviously wishing he was anywhere else. Henry is not a fan of parties, to put it lightly.

In complete contrast to the introverted Devil's Brigade, Granite and his team are always the life of the party. Granite is chatting with what seems to be a million people at once, Stephanie and Kim are outclassing everyone else on the dancefloor (except for Arcade, of course), and Linda has gone over to sit next to Henry, and the two of them are soon excitedly talking about something, most likely robots.

And what about the last member of Judah’s team? Where’s Johnson? Judah subtly scans the room and finds him in a corner with a drink in his hand.

“What’s up?” Judah can’t just leave one of his teammates looking down, so he approaches with a friendly greeting.

Johnson shrugs. “You know, stuck here at this party. How about you?”

“Same.” Judah leans against the wall. “Not much for dancing?”

“Nah.” Johnson sighs. “My choice in partners might be…inappropriate for this kind of party.”

Ah. This is not a surprise. “You’d be surprised.” Judah nods at Stephanie, dressed in a tux, twirling Kim, whose frothy dress swirls around. “Enough people here share your taste in dance partners that nobody would mind.”

Johnson does a double take at Judah, then his shoulders relax and he huffs a laugh. “I guess. What about you, then? What kind of people do you like to dance with?”

“Whoever. Men mostly, but if a woman came along that I liked,” Judah tries to avoid the urge to stare down at his feet, instead looking out at the party, “I’d be fine with that too.”

It’s silent for a moment, the music and laughter filling any awkward silence. Johnson sighs, staring out. Judah follows his gaze and sees Moreno and Daisy dancing. “Do you think-” He cuts himself off. “Never mind.”

Judah knows not to pry. He’s not one for sticking his nose in other people’s business, anyway. Instead, he leans against the wall and soaks up the atmosphere, knowing that in a few hours he’ll have had enough of the dancing and loud noise for a week. But for now, he can enjoy it for a couple minutes.

“I’m going to get a breath of fresh air.” Johnson straightens and nods at Judah, then slips out a side door. Judah watches him go, then, unnoticed against the wall, watches as Moreno looks around, frowns, then slips out the same door.

Well. Judah is nothing if not curious, to a fault. He tries not to make a habit of these things, but sometimes he simply _has_ to know. Besides, Johnson and Moreno have a habit of getting into nasty fights in the most inopportune of times, and it usually helps if Judah is close at hand to break them up.

That’s the excuse Judah tells himself as he quietly sneaks out that door and ducks behind a storage locker. Out here, music pours through the open windows. The cool night air traces a path over Judah’s ears and nose, and he shivers.

Soft voices are coming from a few feet away. Judah peeks around the locker and sees Moreno and Johnson standing facing each other.

“-wallflower,” Moreno is teasing, though not unkindly.

“You know I’m not a dancer,” Johnson retorts.

Moreno lowers his gaze. “You were-”

“That was different. I can’t do that anymore. _We_ can’t do that again.”

“Why? Why not?” Moreno sounds young and desperate, a far cry from his usual stoicism.

“Because we’re terrible.” Johnson says this calmly, without hysteria or wild emotion. “We were fine in a casual thing, when it was all fun, but the moment it got hard, we became awful to each other. We’re not meant to be together, Orion. Not until we get our act together, and I don’t see that happening any time soon.” He swallows hard and wipes his cheek. “It’s not even that I felt you would be mean, but it’s that I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Which I would. It would hurt us both, and I can’t do that. We can’t do that.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Moreno sighs and gets quiet. “Can’t we at least stay friends?”

Johnson sniffles. “Of course we can. You’re my – my best friend, and I’d never want to lose that.” He takes Moreno’s hand. Judah feels like he shouldn’t be watching this, but he keeps watching. “No matter how much we fight, you still mean everything to me. I – I – you mean a lot to me.”

“You too.” Moreno turns his head towards the open windows. A slow song starts. Moreno surges forward and grabs Johnson around the waist, hoisting him up with some effort, considering their height difference. “Now come on, you can’t go this whole boring party without dancing at least once.”

Johnson’s laugh is watery but happy all the same. “Okay. But you have to lead.”

“Of course.”

They dance, and Judah is surprised at how natural it looks. Sure, most of the time it’s just rocking back and forth, but it still looks effortless, intimate. Halfway through the song, Moreno lays his head on Johnson’s shoulder.

Enough. Judah’s seen enough, and now he’s _really_ trespassing on a moment. He sneaks away back into the bright booming room, and finds himself at a loss. The emotional echo of what he’s just seen is still thrumming his bones, everything odd and off-kilter. Judah takes a deep breath, then another, and steels himself. He needs to forget everything that just happened. Their emotional problems are not his responsibility. They’ll figure it out, and he needs to stop intruding on their lives.

Judah crosses the dancefloor and taps Mark’s shoulder. “May I steal him away?” He asks with a playful grin.

“He’s all yours.” Mark pats Judah’s back and leaves them to it.

“How are you enjoying the party?” Judah lifts Arcade so he’s standing on Judah’s shoes, and the two of them sway back and forth together. Arcade is getting taller and taller each day, and the suit they had requisitioned for him a month ago is now several inches too short in the legs and arms.

Arcade sticks out his tongue. “Boring.”

Judah grins. “Do you want to know something? A secret?” Arcade nods, excited. “I think it’s boring too. But it’s almost over, and you can tap out any time you want. Just say you’re tired, even if you’re not. Say that you want to go to bed, and your Mom and Dad will take you home.”

“Hm.” Arcade looks thoughtful at this, and Judah is suddenly worried he’s taught the kid how to manipulate people. But, to be fair, he _will_ get tired soon, after so long having to sit still, then all the food and dancing.

Judah looks up and sees a side door open. Moreno enters and heads for the drink table. On the other side of the room, Johnson slips back in and sits at the table with Henry.

But Judah promised himself he wouldn’t worry about them. He’s going to let them be.

So he dances. When Arcade’s seemingly boundless energy suddenly runs out, he takes Daisy for a spin, then Maria, then coaxes a reluctant Henry into a conga line. He dances until the party ends, until the whole squad goes home for the night.

Home. Their cramped, often-malfunctioning dorm suite. But more than that, of course. Home was together, a new family for Judah and for all of them, who never had much of a chance for anything like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bangs cymbals together* It's projecting onto fictional characters time! Yeehaw!

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically part of the Noir 1950's AU, but not exactly, so I'm not going to tag it as such. Something that I've wanted to write for a little while now!


End file.
